(no subject)
Title: Reparation- Chapter One
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Yoosu
Summary: Park Yoochun blames the loss of the woman he loved on Kim Junsu and seeks to vent his grief on the other.
Chapter One
The once comforting scent of lavender pricked at his senses, the pastel shades that he had once found so inviting served only to darken the grief in his eyes. It was all too familiar, the pale-blue ceiling with the matching bedspreads, the vase of lavender that sat alone on the wooden desk, the perfume of fresh lavender that filled the air, the same things that he had loved about the room now served only to pain him.
He looked slowly around him.
A book laid open on the bedside table, one of the trashy romances that he had often berated her for reading, the nightlight remained switched on as it always was, part of her firm belief that she always needed light around her, the half-completed stack of wedding invitations remained on her desk. It was all intact; the room appeared neat yet alive, as if its owner had never left.
Yet the truth could hardly be further.
Walking slowly towards the wardrobe, he opened it carefully; aware that this was the place she treasured most. Running his hands across the light summer dresses that she favoured and insisted on wearing even in the cold winter, he took in the familiar scent that he missed so badly, examining every piece of fabric for traces of their shared past; losing himself in the memories that they once shared.
“Mr. Park.”
A low voice sounded from outside the door.
“You need to go down now. The ceremony is starting.”
The voice was urgent yet sympathetic.
“I understand.”
Replacing the objects in the wardrobe, he closed it firmly and moved towards the door, looking around the room for another time, his last time, before exiting the room softly, closing the door gently behind him as he always did.
“Goodbye dear.”
He murmured the words softly, his final farewell to the only woman that had entered his heart.
The ceremony was a sombre affair. It took place as she wished, in her own garden, yet he felt sure that she would have hated it.
The black dresses and dull tuxedos that dotted the well-kept garden was a ominous contrast to the rainbow-like fabrics that had adorned the same place at their engagement party, the cheerful laughter had been replaced by hushed whispers and the occasional sound of someone weeping, the colourful ornaments that she loved so dearly were now draped in black and white to suit the sombre atmosphere of the occasion.
It was nothing like what she would have wanted. But perhaps it made no difference, not anymore.
She was gone.
The ceremony was a short one and he stood silently through it, playing dutifully the part of a grieving fiancé, the disappointed party in a failed alliance that would have given birth to Korea’s largest conglomerate if it had succeeded. It was a marriage of politics and finances, he knew it right from the start, and he expected it as soon as he learned to write his name. What he had never expected was to fall in love with his bride.
He couldn’t help it, she was perfect.
At that thought, his lips curved into a tiny smile, the first smile that had touched his features since her departure.
The guests were moving around the garden now, people were coming up to him to express their condolences and he responded politely, in the detached, business-like way he was trained to respond, carefully disguising his emotions under the expressionless mask that slid easily over his face. Things went smoothly, the guests that were expected to attend came and went, the friends of his father, the friends of her father, their business associates, the women from the clubs and charities she participated so actively in, they all came and said the same things, tapping his shoulder and shaking his hand in the same way and he responded in the way he was expected too.
Everything went well.
The morning was soon over and the afternoon sun had descended upon the garden, casting the grass in a shade of pale orange. Nearly everyone that was expected had came and gone, there was barely anyone left saved for her family and closest friends, the wake was drawing to a close and they will soon leave for the cemetery where she was to be laid at eternal peace.
Then he came.
The slender figure entered the garden silently, his dyed blond hair golden in the light of the sun, his shoulders hunched slightly and his head bent low as he moved rapidly towards the coffin, preparing to pay his final respects.
Her mother saw him first, noticing the awkward figure that stood out glaringly in his white T-shirt and torn jeans in the midst of people dressed in formal business suits, the golden strands on his head distinguished him instantly from the respectably dark heads around him.
The middle-aged woman emitted a loud cry, her usually soft voice shrill and ringing, breaking the calm silence of the late morning air. The composure gained from years of training was suddenly gone; the good manners that she was born and bred vanished along with the regal air that once surrounded her. She rushed forward suddenly, freeing herself from the dutiful hold of the women that surrounded her, her footsteps were rapid; all traces of arthritis had vanished.
“You.”
It was all she could say before she descended upon the newcomer.
The sound of quiet chatter and polite murmurings that had previously filled the garden was suddenly gone, replaced by a silence punctuated only by the cries of the woman as she vented her grief. Numerous pairs of eyes turned towards the pair, a majority reflecting the same uncertainty and pity, seeing for the first time, under the composed exterior, a mother who had just lost her only daughter.
No one moved. They were all uncertain of how to react. The glances turned eventually to the man who stood silently at one corner, her husband. Yet, the man who weathered countless storms and takeovers now stood passively at one side, watching as his wife showed her sorrow in the only way she could, knowing that it was the only thing he could do for her now.
The woman tore madly at the golden head with her well-manicured fingers, the sharp tips of her nails drawing blood from the pale neck as she scratched and shook him violently, losing herself in her all-consuming grief.
Yet, the young man appeared oblivious to the physical abuse hurled upon him, his arms remaining weakly at his side and his head lowered even as she tugged at his hair. The red marks that covered his neck became deeper and deeper, the cuts she had inflicted on his cheek begun to bleed, and he stumbled slightly backward at the force with which she shook him. Yet, he made no attempt to defend himself, silently submitting to her grief.
“Calm down.”
A low calm voice finally spoke, warm yet slightly detached at the same time, reaching through the woman’s blind grief into her conscious.
Her hands were gently pried away from the youth as a strong arm closed gently around her and she was led back to her husband and the women who surrounded her once more, in tears and exhausted by her own anger, a helpless woman on the verge of collapse. The silent glances followed their steps, marvelling at the composed demeanour of the man they had heard so much about, the single heir to the largest banking corporation in the country, the fiancé of the girl who now laid in eternal sleep, Park Yoochun.
The party moved slowly towards the house, the young man with the golden hair appeared forgotten with the exception of the few curious glances cast his way and the disapproving stares at his head and attire. Left alone, he moved slowly towards the dark coffin that occupied the centre of the garden, lifting his eyes to take in the black and white picture placed on the elegant altar.
“Sorry.”
It was no more than a mere whisper, his eyes never leaving the photo.
Bending down slowly towards the opened coffin, he pressed his lips against the cold cheek, taking in the sweet scent of lavender that surrounded her even in death, cherishing the memory of their final meeting.
“Don’t touch her.”
A cold voice sounded behind him.
Without warning, he found himself pulled up and dragged roughly away from the coffin, the cold fingers clamped around his wrist pushing firmly into his flesh, leaving a ring of red on his skin as he stumbled to the ground when released suddenly.
“Kim Junsu.”
The voice that spoke was low and slight husky, lined with the slightest hint of hatred under the emotionless tones.
Looking up slowly, he met the frosty glance, seeing not merely the hatred and anger that lined their depths but the clear scorn in the dark eyes as well.
“Park Yoochun.”
The response was clear and mild without a trace of emotion, as was the gaze that he returned.
“I’ll make you pay.”
The slight huskiness was gone, replaced by detachedly pleasant business-like tone appropriate for a first meeting as the words were spoken clearly, ringing in the silent air.
The only response was a silent nod as the thin figure picked himself up slowly from the ground, his movements clumsy and pathetic in the dark eyes that observed his every move, and moved without a word to the large metal gates, making his exit.
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